I transmigrated into an ancient romance novel as the villainess who framed the heroine. That very day, I was divorced and tossed into the woodshed.
According to the original plot, I’d be sold to a brothel and die miserably in the street.
Instead, I tore down the marquis residence’s rear wall and cited the dynasty’s laws:
“When a couple divorces by mutual consent, the property is split in half. Hand over my money!”
The marquis, who once despised me, now begs me to come back, his eyes red.
I pull out my infrastructure plans and smile sweetly at him.
“Do you know what real estate development is?”
